


A Comedy of Eros

by withthepilot



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Just My Luck, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Crossover, Humor, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long time since Cupid saw a human as anything other than a moving target. All it takes is a few falling books to make him see the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Comedy of Eros

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Worlds Collide Crossover Challenge over at the jim_and_bones community on LJ. Silly wingfic, basically. Abuse of mythology contained herein. Title taken from one of Karl Urban's _Xena_ episodes.

Cupid's in his element. He's got his arrow at the ready, held taut in the draw of his bow, his pretty, redheaded target in sight, when the unthinkable happens.

A book falls on him. And not just any book—something hefty and back-breaking, like the biggest volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica. It knocks him out cold where he stands and lands his bow, arrow, and butt on the floor.

When he comes to, he realizes it wasn't just one book, but many books, scattered on the floor all around him, poking him with their hardbound spines. He remembers that, oh yeah, he's in a library, and he was supposed to hook up the cute librarian with one of the establishment's avid readers. Cupid jolts to a sitting position but he pauses when he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up into a pair of disarming blue eyes.

Well. This day just got a lot more interesting.

"Shit. I'm so sorry. So sorry, really, I...crap. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, m'just..." A wave of dizziness passes over Cupid just as an angry, shooting pain from that big book pierces through his temple. "Augh. Maybe not so okay. What was that, anyway?"

"Uhh. _The Collected Works of Shakespeare_." The man cringes and shakes Cupid's shoulder when he tries to recline again. "Hey, no, don't close your eyes. You might be concussed. You can't sleep if you're concussed."

"What're you, some kind of doctor?"

"No… Just someone who knows a lot about concussions." He starts fumbling through his bag and pulls out what looks like a traveling first-aid kit, complete with handfuls of Band-Aids and gauze. "I'm kind of clumsy. As you can probably guess. Gotta be prepared for all kinds of disasters."

"You mean to tell me you fell into that bookcase and knocked _all_ these books down at once?"

"When I fall, I fall hard." He laughs and pairs a self-deprecating shrug with a startlingly bright smile. Cupid barely suppresses a whimper.

"Yeah, me too," he murmurs.

The wooziness and pain will go away any minute now, thanks to good, godly genes, but in the meantime, he's out of it enough that he doesn't notice the man checking out the merchandise—and not the merchandise he'd prefer.

"Whoa. These wings are amazing. You going to a costume party or something?"

Cupid starts to laugh, then remembers something important: This mortal, whoever he is, shouldn't actually be able to _see_ him, let alone be touching his wings, which feels…really damn nice, actually. It's all Cupid can do to keep from purring under the man's roving fingertips. He has the passing thought that this whole thing might be the work of his mother—Aphrodite will do anything for a giggle—but he dismisses it, because, well...who cares? The guy is gorgeous and sweet and it's been a long time since Cupid took some time off from pairing people up and went a little heads over heels himself.

"What's your name?" he asks, ignoring the previous question. His voice is low and rough now, thanks to all that stroking over his ultra-sensitive wings. The man seems to notice, if the slow bob of his Adam's apple is any indication.

"Jake." _Jake Hardin_ , Cupid's mental list of living mortals adds. It takes some time to keep track of them, now that there are so many more than there used to be, back in the good old days. "What's yours?"

"Eros," he says, and Jake laughs.

"Eros. As in Cupid, right? That's pretty funny." There's that sparkling smile again. "Does that mean you're not going to tell me your real name?"

"What, I don't look like Cupid to you?"

"You do, actually, quite a bit. Though I didn't know Cupid bleached his hair. They leave that part out of the mythology books."

"It's not bleached," Cupid says defensively. He huffs when Jake spots the fallen arrow and picks it up. "And be careful with that. It's not as dangerous when not it's sailing sixty miles an hour toward your cute derriere, but it's still not a toy."

Jake lifts his head and grins. "You think my derriere is cute?"

"Well." He smirks and leans close, going with the flow. "Hey. You wanna go find a secluded aisle somewhere?"

"Oh. Um." Jake blinks, a surprised look in his eyes as if he can't believe his luck. "Yes? But with my luck, someone would spot us and we'd end up getting arrested for public indecency."

"All right, so we'll go back to your place."

"Uh, yeah! Sure. Okay." Jake starts cramming stuff back into his bag and gets to babbling. "I mean, it's kind of far away from here. Not really in a great part of town. And I don't want to make you late to your costume party, but if you don't mind sitting on the train for a while—"

Cupid rolls his eyes dramatically and grabs Jake's arm. "Whatever," he says.

And then, with a flicker of gold dust, they disappear, leaving a pile of fallen books in their wake.

*

Predictably, when they suddenly appear out of thin air in Jake's apartment, he takes one look around and freaks out.

"Okay... _what_?! How did you do that? We were just in the library a second ago, and now—"

Cupid sighs and folds his arms over his chest, watching as Jake walks around and touches his own belongings, as if to make sure they're real. " _Now_ do you believe me when I say I'm really Cupid?"

Jake starts backing away from him, his eyes wild and unbelieving. "Cupid is a character in Greek and Roman mythology! And mythology is...well, a myth! And myths are—whoa!" He trips on an extension cord, of all things, falling backwards and colliding with a conveniently placed armchair. There's a _thunk_ sound that doesn't sound very good to Cupid's ears. He scrambles over to Jake as he slides down to the floor in a heap.

"You weren't kidding about the concussions, were you?"

"Huh?" Jake slurs, his eyes slightly unfocused. "That's nothin'. Coulda knocked over the lamp and set the whole place on fire." He smirks. "Been there, done that."

"Is that your idea of a good time?" Cupid passes his hand over Jake's forehead to rid him of the after-effects of the fall. Jake's gaze immediately loses that cloudiness and when he looks up, Cupid wriggles his fingers. "Trick of the trade."

"No shit? You could be useful to have around." Jake sits up, rubbing his head, feeling no bumps whatsoever. "So you're really a...?"

Cupid shrugs and looks around the place for the first time. "Nice dump you've got here, Jake. And yes, I'm really Cupid. You think I'd hang out in a public library with a bow and arrow, wearing only a skirt, just for kicks?"

There's that bright smile again. "Well, this _is_ New York. These things are known to happen."

"Touché." Cupid reaches out and brushes away some fallen strands of hair from Jake's forehead. "And what's your deal? You're just some unlucky schmuck, flinging yourself into bookshelves and furniture on a daily basis?"

"Basically. Not so unlucky today, though."

It takes Cupid a moment to catch Jake's drift because he's too busy staring at the guy's mouth. Then he doesn't have much time to process it because that same plush mouth is crashing into his in a clumsy but sweetly intense kiss. Cupid sighs into it—it's been far too long since he's had some action of his own, a few Earth centuries at least—and he cups the back of Jake's neck, urging him closer. For a clumsy guy, Jake definitely knows what he's doing with his tongue, and Cupid's wings begin to flutter in excitement.

"Whoa, there," Jake says, breaking the kiss with a laugh. He reaches back and smoothes down the ruffled feathers, which makes Cupid shudder all over. Jake quirks a brow. "Sensitive, huh?"

"To human touch, yeah." He smiles crookedly and shrugs. "Been a while. Psyche moved on a long time ago."

"Right, Psyche," Jake says, nodding as the wheels turning in his head. "Sorry, it's just...this is still pretty weird. Also, it's been a while since high school English."

"High school English?" Cupid frowns and kisses the corner of Jake's mouth. "Bad enough no one believes in us anymore. We get no love these days."

"Maybe if they got a load of this outfit," Jake quips between kisses. "Speaking of, mind taking it off?"

"What, it's not good enough for you that I'm constantly shirtless?"

Jake reaches down and strips off his own shirt, only getting tangled in it for five seconds, tops. "Let's just say I'm riding this lucky streak as far as it'll take me."

The sight of Jake's bare skin is like a tall glass of nectar on a hot day in Olympus. Cupid all but pounces on Jake, rolling him to his back and grazing their hips together. There's a lot of leather and denim separating them but Jake still moans prettily at the friction, reaching up and holding Cupid by his biceps. He's beautiful, a heavenly vision, and Cupid rocks against him, drowning in those sea-blue eyes.

"Oh, fuck," Jake pants, arching up for more. "Should we...bed?"

"No need," Cupid says. He snaps his fingers and suddenly, they're lying atop a silky pile of multicolored rose petals. Jake looks down, his eyes widening.

"Holy crap," he says. Then he blinks and sneezes. Hard. All over Cupid's bare chest.

"...Ergh." Cupid looks down at the snot on his chest. "Let me guess: allergic?"

"Never have been before, but…maybe when dealing with this quantity of roses, yeah."

Cupid exhales and wipes the snot away first, then snaps his fingers again, transforming the petals into a fluffy cloud. Jake opens his mouth but Cupid cuts him off. "It's hypoallergenic, trust me. Now take off your pants."

Jake grins and unbuttons his fly. Soon, he's completely nude, sprawled out on the pillowy cloud like an elaborate dessert waiting to be devoured, and Cupid stares, kind of breathless. He's forgotten how perfectly lovely humans can be, after centuries of nailing them in the behinds with love-laced arrows, viewing them as mere targets. Jake flushes under his gaze, squirming shyly, which Cupid thinks is too adorable for words.

"Come on, man, stop staring. You've laid eyes on, what—zillions of people over thousands of centuries?"

"I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I said that none of them even came close to matching your beauty."

Jake bites his lip to hide a smile, unsuccessfully. "I think you must've accidentally sat on one of your arrows."

Cupid just smiles. He knows what the sting of his own arrow feels like, after all. He leans down and gets to work kissing and licking all of that exposed skin, paying extra attention to Jake's nipples, which seem to be quite sensitive. When he gets his hand around Jake's cock, it practically jumps in his grip, and Cupid can tell he's not the only one who's gone a while without sex .

"I—I'm getting a handjob from a _god_ ," Jake says, staring up at the cracked ceiling. "I'm...I'm in my shitbox apartment, my rent's past due, and the god of love is here, jacking my dick."

"That's just for starters, too." Cupid wiggles his fingers again, then moves them down between Jake's legs, teasing at the sensitive flesh there. Jake gasps and squirms again.

"Wait! There—there's lube in the nightstand. Next to the bed."

"Jake, I'm a _deity_. I think I know what I'm doing."

To demonstrate, Cupid rubs two fingers together and slides them smoothly into Jake's ass, which is tight and warm around him. Jake flinches, expecting to feel pain at the intrusion, and then blinks in surprise when that pain never comes.

"That feels... _fuck_." Jake moans when Cupid finds his prostate, nudging his fingertips in a rhythmic circle over that magic spot. "H-how did you do that? I haven't been—we didn't prepare at all!"

"Not necessary when you're fucking the god of erotic love. I _invented_ this stuff, remember?" Cupid strokes Jake's hardening length with his free hand and gets another loud grunt for his efforts. "Now stop questioning everything and just let me do my thing."

"You're the boss," Jake answers breathily, dropping his head back. Cupid likes the sound of that, so he rewards Jake by sucking his entire cock into his mouth. Jake shouts his approval and bucks into Cupid's mouth, which—lucky for him—isn't a problem. Cupid feels a little bad for any of the guy's past human lovers, though.

Cupid feeds off Jake's pleasure, working his cock and his asshole at the same time, loving Jake's keens and grunts as he fucks himself on Cupid's fingers. There's a definite stirring under his skirt that becomes more pronounced when Jake reaches up, grabs onto Cupid's wings with both hands, and _strokes_. Cupid's brain goes haywire for a second, and he swallows around Jake's cock, the swelling head halfway down his throat. He gets a flash of Jake's cresting arousal as the hands on his wings squeeze his feathers and Jake's muscles squeeze around his fingers. Warm release spills down his throat and spurs his own, making things a little...sticky. But nice. Awesome, even.

When he lifts his head, Jake is passed out, smiling blissfully. Cupid rolls his eyes and waves away the mess inside his outfit, then gathers Sleeping Beauty into his arms.

"Humans," he mutters. Then that gold sparkle appears again.

*

When Cupid opens his eyes, he's still in that crummy apartment and Jake Hardin is sitting on the bed beside him, staring and smiling.

"So I wasn't dreaming after all," Jake says.

"Guess not. Your luck might be turning around yet."

"Doubtful. I still managed to stub my toe on the foot of the sink when I went to the bathroom."

Cupid waves a hand and yawns. "Yeah, well. Olympus wasn't built in a day."

Jake laughs and Cupid spots a sparkle in his gem-like eyes. "Is that our next stop? I mean, that's what happened to Psyche, right?"

"Well...that was different. I was sent to make Psyche fall in love with someone else. Whereas you got my attention by smacking me over the head with a textbook."

"Hey, accidents happen, right?" Jake quirks a smile and motions to their surroundings. "Besides, it's not like my life here is so great."

Cupid exhales and smiles ruefully. The truth is, he's not ready to leave this gorgeous human and his warm flesh and inviting bed for a second, let alone completely abandon him for Olympus.

"I'll have to discuss it with my mother," he says. "It's been a long time since we last doled out the ambrosia. But in the meantime, I'd like to stay for a while. It's been a few centuries since I last took a vacation."

"Yeah? Then you should take a load off."

Before Cupid can reply, Jake has him on his stomach with his legs spread wide. It only takes a few clever swipes of Jake's tongue between Cupid's cheeks before he's promising Jake all the ambrosia he can drink.

The rest, as they say, is mythology—complete with a newly minted god of clumsiness, a constant rash of broken statues and priceless ornaments, and an angry, ever-bellowing Zeus.

And, by the gods, a whole butt-load of legendary sex.


End file.
